Free The Mapmaker's Daughter by Laurel Corona Page A

rolling waves splashing over the bow of my caravel. “Steer away from shore!” Cape Bojador is half a league off the port side, and I see surf breaking off shore. “A reef! A reef! We’ll be dashed to pieces.” I leap below deck to take the tiller and use my powerful arms to turn the boat away. I see the cowering ship hands’ admiring eyes, for I am the famed Amalia of the Deep. My flowing locks whip in the wind, and my ample breasts heave inside my bodice. It’s up to me to save the crew and bring the ship back, its coffers overflowing with gold—
    “What are you doing?” Diogo Marques is standing on the beach a few paces away. He’s well dressed, as always, and though he is slender and not much taller than me, his shoulders look powerful. His calves, under the short, ballooning trousers and tight stockings favored at Henry’s court, are strong and muscular.
    “I—” My eyes fall to the ground in embarrassment. “I’m acting out a story.”
    “It must have been quite a tale.” To my relief, his smile seems curious rather than mocking.
    “Was I talking out loud?” I ask, fearing the answer.
    “No, but it looked as if you had something rather fearsome to do battle with.”
    His light brown hair is sun streaked, and his eyes are between green and brown, like moss. They glint as if thoughts are streaming through his mind too quickly to hang on to. His cheeks are rosy, and he is pretty like a girl.
    I’ve studied him so carefully because he is the only man at court younger than my father’s age. He is being groomed as a commander and has been named captain of one of the vessels in Prince Henry’s next expedition.
    “I really should be getting home.” Here on the beach, he seems unfamiliar and formidable.
    “Perhaps I could accompany you,” he says. “You live at Sagres, I believe?” He is acting as if I am a young lady, and I wish I had done a better job lacing my dress and braiding my hair before leaving the house.
    If only I were a little older and didn’t have a flat chest. If only my hands were milky white rather than covered with sand and calluses. But I’m just a girl who Diogo Marques would not notice if anyone else were here.
    I try to behave as grown-up as I can. I keep Chuva to a trot, holding my back very straight and doing my best to look knowing and imperious. I am exhausted from the effort by the time my house is in sight.
    Diogo points to the tower. “That’s what I came to see,” he says.
    “It’s hardly worth climbing the stairs. You get as good a view walking out to the point.” No one but me ever risks the tiny, slick steps, and I do so only when I am a captive princess or a witch brewing powerful spells from atop my domain.
    “I’ve been told that,” Diogo says, “but I thought I might see if the prince should post a lookout here. It’s not the best vantage point to watch for the Moors, but then again, we haven’t been about to go to war until now.”
    We reach the stables, and Martim helps me down. “Thank you for the pleasant company,” Diogo says, setting off without another word. I watch his silhouette in the tower as he takes in the sea and sky, and when he comes down, I run quickly for home so he won’t know I have been watching him.
    ***
    For the next few days, I stay close to the house, not wanting to miss Diogo if he comes for another visit. Then, just when I am about to shake away the fuzz in my head by taking a long ride on Chuva, I see a horse and rider go past our window. I jump up, spilling the contents of a cup of water on the front of my dress. I massage the spot until the moisture spreads enough not to be visible and make what I hope looks like a casual exit from the house.
    I see Diogo inside the tower. The excitement is too much for me, and before I can stop myself, I have climbed the steps and am standing next to him. “What are you doing?” I ask, realizing to my chagrin how obvious the answer is.
    “Prince Henry said to leave this here,”